The maintenance guy thinks I’m a serial killer. We’ve had some issues with our smoke detectors going off at random intervals, and the joys of apartment life allow for a quick email to the maintenance department. A lovely man arrived yesterday. He changed some batteries. I stood with him under the alarm near my office…
Balconies are interesting spaces. A front yard or a porch are also revealing, but balconies are small pops of individuality amid a sea of windowed vertical boxes. I can’t say I ever noticed what my neighbors were doing when I lived among the streets, but now that I’m in an apartment, I can’t seem to…
Should we reconstruct our vaginas or simply steam them on the regular? More importantly, is it still a vagina or should I be calling it a vulva? I read a handful of seemingly adult humans—or maybe adult is an outdated term since we are all just children-at-heart adulting while striving for our daily steps circle…
I turned ten years old on July 3rd. Well, not really. I started my blog ten years ago. I don’t like numbers. Their restrictions go past high school algebra into the mindset of our culture. Numbers can make us feel falsely badass or tragically small. I guess that alone explains why July 3rd came…
A penny for your thoughts. My Uncle Jerry used to say that when I was a child, usually accompanied by a pinch on the cheek. He was a character that I didn’t appreciate as much as I would now if he were still in my life. Penny for your thoughts is an odd, older generation…
I seem to be fixated on my bathrooms lately. Maybe it’s because when we painted, over a year ago, I removed everything from the walls, and have yet to put things back. I’ve been taking my time picking out new bathroom hardware. In fact, I’m thinking of putting different towel bars and things in each…
It’s time for Pitbull. Everyone has things they do when they start feeling vulnerable, weak maybe. Some have affirmations, ways to boost the ego, embolden themselves against the cruelty of the world. I have music and sometimes I need Pitbull. I know, it’s not something I freely admit, but it is the truth. His…
If I were a hairdresser, I would want to be called a “dresser” and not a “stylist.” I would own a little two chair place in a small town, tucked close to a bakery. Every morning, just as the sun was coming up, I would walk to work. Down the hill, past the small garage…
I am so awkward. Honestly, sometimes things seem perfectly normal at the time and then I just don’t know what I was thinking. This post is cringeworthy, so be forewarned. If you are uncomfortable with boobs, stop right now and go enjoy your weekend. I have an author page on Facebook. I hate Facebook, but it’s…